


You Don't Hate It (Then You Don't Hate It)

by helens78



Category: Californication (TV), due South
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Doppelganger, First Time, M/M, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Undercover, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-02
Updated: 2010-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-10 08:45:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Fraser and Ray need information about a missing musician, Ray sneaks them into a party where some old friends of Ray's are hanging out.  It turns out one of them might have some information, but Lew Ashby isn't the kind of guy to let information slip without getting something of his own, and Ashby doesn't want money.  Problem is, Ray doesn't trust Ashby completely, so he asks Fraser to step into the room with them and watch his back.  And Ashby says Fraser can watch anything he wants...</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Hate It (Then You Don't Hate It)

**Author's Note:**

> For my kink bingo card (voyeurism square). Thanks to Travis for the beta! :)
> 
> If you're not familiar with Californication, Lew Ashby was played by Callum Keith Rennie, and is kind of a dick. He's also well known in the music industry, although he's usually located in California -- I figured Chicago wouldn't mind having Ashby around for a little while in the '90s.

Fraser has never been fond of parties. This is different from the catered affairs at the Consulate, but no more comfortable. Ray seems to be taking to it like a duck to water--the loud music, the raucous crowd... the dancing, which resembles nothing so much as intimate gyrations next to perfect strangers. Fraser catches sight of Ray dancing with a young man whose clothing is decorated in chains and quickly looks away. He's already tried to hide behind the snack table once tonight; it only resulted in someone pressuring him to eat the potato chips. If only Diefenbaker were here.

Fraser would have left an hour ago, with or without Ray, if they weren't on a case. The trail leads here, though, to this house, the home of one Edgar Dawson--one of Chicago's most celebrated music producers. Fraser has to admit that the music blaring from the home's in-wall sound system is reasonably good, if not precisely to his taste. It bothers him to turn a blind eye to so much in here, though: he suspects several of the people in the crowd are underage, and while he hasn't gone out of his way to check for it, a number of people appear intoxicated from more than just alcohol.

Still, arresting people would bring the night's festivities to a grinding halt, and it would ruin any chance they have of obtaining help from these people in finding their missing young man, besides. If Fraser were better at small talk--specifically, better at small talk conducted with people under the influence--he'd be doing what Ray's doing: getting to know people, asking about their missing "friend" Jay Stone. He did try, but halfway through their conversation about walrus migration habits, the woman he was talking to claimed to actually _be_ a walrus (Fraser is not at all convinced "Googoo Goojoob" is a traditional walrus name, even if one is channeling one's totem animal).

Someone's hand comes down on his shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. He turns to face the stranger, a brown-haired man dressed in a t-shirt that reads "RAIN CIRCUS". The man's weaving on his feet, obviously inebriated.

"Yes?"

"You're the guy, right? The one with the--the red guy, the _guy_. Right?"

Fraser is in fact wearing red today; he's wearing a red overshirt and blue jeans, both selected by Ray. _Can't take the Mountie out of the man, might as well work the red,_ Ray had told him. _They're gonna know you're not rock or punk, but you could pass for country._

"Possibly," he answers. "May I help you?"

"The _other_ guy wants you," says Mr. Circus. "In the, uh, the--he said he was gonna--upstairs, I think, okay? So go, right?"

"Thank you," Fraser says, nodding. Mr. Circus's hand stays attached to Fraser's shoulder until Fraser's actually walked far enough away that Mr. Circus can't reach him anymore; Fraser hopes Mr. Circus can stay upright.

He also hopes the message was meant for him; he _did_ come in with Ray, and they did get a fair amount of attention, and he's probably the only man fitting his own description here, so it probably was Ray--but the message wasn't exactly specific. Upstairs, though--Fraser can at least look around upstairs and see if Ray wants anything. Maybe he's found a clue; maybe they can leave before Fraser suffers permanent hearing loss.

No sign of anyone in the first bedroom. The second door is a bathroom, and the only reason it isn't currently in use is because the floor is covered in an unpleasant substance. The third room does have people in it, but none of the four of them are Ray.

But when Fraser opens the door to the fourth room--another bedroom--there are two of Ray sitting on the bed, which more than makes up for it.

Fraser blinks; there can't really be two of Ray. The Ray Fraser arrived with is sitting on the right, leaning back on the bed, propped up on his elbows. He grins as soon as Fraser walks through the door.

The second Ray is older, heavier, and has a goatee. He's wearing an old, faded black t-shirt that reads "Dead Boys". And he has his hand on Ray's thigh.

"I'm sorry," Fraser says. "I was told--obviously a mistake, I'll just--"

"He _is_ jumpy," not-Ray says. He looks Fraser up and down and smirks. "But I can see why you put up with it."

Something in that--the expression more than the words--sounds like a compliment, so Fraser blinks a few times and says, "Thank you...?"

But now Ray's sitting up and heading over, and he pulls Fraser into his arms. His lips are warm against Fraser's ear, and he whispers, "Can you go along with this?"

"I have no idea what that means," Fraser whispers back.

Ray doesn't disentangle himself from Fraser. In fact, his hands are sliding down Fraser's back, and--Fraser stiffens when Ray's hands sink into his back pockets. Ray glances back over his shoulder. "Ashby, you mind giving us a minute?"

Not-Ray--Ashby--lifts his hands and nods. "You bet. Don't want to step on any toes."

As soon as Ashby's gone, Ray takes his hands out of Fraser's pockets and steps back. "Okay, sorry, sorry, I should have asked first. I got bullrushed--I turn the corner and Ashby tackles me into the wall."

"Are you all right?" It hadn't occurred to Fraser to check Ray for injury, but now that they're alone, he starts looking Ray over. He has a red mark at the base of his neck, where it meets his left shoulder, and his shirt does appear slightly mussed. It's much easier to concentrate on Ray's well-being than to think about where Ray's hands were a few moments ago.

"I'm fine, hey--nothing happened." Fraser frowns, and Ray sighs and rolls his eyes. "Not _much_ happened. But that's why I sent for you, okay?"

Fraser nods, although he feels as though he's missing great swathes of information. "Of course, Ray. If you'd like to go..."

"Go? No, no, no--I think Ashby knows something about our guy."

There's part of it. "Shouldn't you be talking to him, then?"

"Man, if only it were that easy." Ray sighs. "Here's the thing. I _think_ Ashby knows something, but I can't tell for sure if he's just bullshitting, so I figure I get him in a particularly good mood, he'll talk to me."

"That sounds reasonable, then."

Ray's jaw drops, but he closes his mouth and nods, not quite able to keep the surprise off the rest of his face. "So you're okay with this."

"If Ashby knows something about Jay Stone, of course you should talk to him."

"And like I said--talking ain't gonna cut it. Ashby needs to be kinda... sweet-talked, caressed--"

"Finessed."

"That, too. What I'm saying is, I think I'm gonna have to take some clothes off for this."

"That's--" Fraser takes a breath. "A new investigative method. I don't recall you using that one before."

Ray rolls his eyes. "That's because most times our contacts fall over _your_ feet without even looking at me."

Fraser blinks at him. "So--you approve of seduction as a way to... to..."

"Okay, no, not really." Ray sighs. "Cards on the table here. I kinda have a history with Ashby." He scratches the back of his neck and rocks back and forth on his heels. "We had some mutual friends when I was a kid and I was kinda hanging around the punk scene, and you might've noticed we have a sort of..." He gestures at the door, at himself, and back at the door. "He got a kick out of us looking kinda like each other, and back in the day, I wasn't too picky, you know what I'm saying? Guy says, 'hey, we should get together, we could be like the Doublemint twins'--"

"I doubt very much that Mr. and Mr. Doublemint would--were--that they'd--" Fraser glances back at the door. "If you're still in touch with him, couldn't we just invite him to the station and..."

"No, no, no," Ray says, shaking his head vehemently. "Guys like Ashby, they do not have a thing for cops unless they're, like, porn cops. In leather cop uniforms or something. We take him down to the 2-7, he's gonna clam up like a fish."

"Actually, fish are part of the chordata phylum, while clams are part of the mollusca phylum--" Even Fraser realizes that's a non sequitur at this point, so he does his own clam imitation, closing his mouth.

"The thing is," Ray says quietly, "Ashby's kind of a dick, but he'll do me a favor if I ask the right way. And the thing about _that_ is... the right way's probably gonna involve a blowjob or a handjob. Or both."

"And what exactly does that have to do with me?"

"Ashby's kinda pushy." Ray rolls his eyes. "I mean, he was fun when I was seventeen and he was twenty-three, right? But I'm kinda over that, and..." Ray looks down at his feet, scuffs his right boot against the carpet. "I trust you to make sure it doesn't go any further than I want it to."

"I wouldn't let Ashby or anyone else hurt you if I could prevent it," Fraser says; here, at last, is one thing he can agree to.

"I know," Ray says. But he's still not looking at Fraser. "So I told him you were my partner."

Fraser frowns. "I thought we weren't approaching him from a position of authority."

Ray looks up, and his frown mirrors Fraser's. "Well, no, I didn't tell him you're a Mountie."

"You told him I'm part of the Chicago Police Department?"

"No, I told him you're my _partner_."

The emphasis on "partner" brings on a full tactile flashback of the way Ray slid his hands into Fraser's back pockets, and Fraser's jaw drops open. "You--_oh_."

"I should've asked first, I know I should've, and I'm sorry, but this is the closest we've been to a lead in a week now. We don't have a hell of a lot of time to burn."

"That's true," Fraser says. Ray's hands sliding down his back, the warmth of them pressed along either side of his spine... it's not a memory he'll be shaking anytime soon.

"And Ashby's done a lot of stuff, and he's still kind of got that bad-boy music-biz thing happening, and so I thought, well, he's not gonna bat an eyelash if I say, hey, for old times' sake, why don't we fool around some--I mean, he was halfway to asking me first--" Ray reaches up and scratches at the side of his neck, near the red mark; Fraser wonders if he even realizes the mark is there. And if Ray doesn't consider whatever activity caused that mark to be fooling around, then--what was that, to Ray? "But I really don't want him thinking he can have a free shot at my ass, so I said I'm with somebody, and he's cool with it if we fool around, but he likes to watch."

For most of that speech, Fraser's been nodding--not because he agrees or because it makes sense, just to show Ray he's absorbing the information--but when Ray finishes with that rather unexpected element, Fraser gawks at him. "Ray--Ray, I can't even--I don't--"

"Look, look, hey--" Ray comes forward and puts his hands on Fraser's shoulders; Fraser stiffens again, and like the last time, it isn't limited to his posture. "If you can't do this, then we walk. There are other places to look, or I can get to Ashby somewhere he's not gonna pull something shady."

Fraser closes his eyes. _Jay Stone_, he thinks. Nineteen years old. In over his head with this industry. In debt to more than just his label; in debt to men who wouldn't think twice about threatening Stone to get what they want, or worse. Gone for nearly a week, no sign of whether he ran or whether he was taken.

Compared to that, Fraser's small amount of discomfort with this idea seems rather petty.

"How do I do this?" Fraser asks quietly. "I've never..."

"Pretend it's porn," Ray offers. Fraser arches an eyebrow at him, and Ray blinks a few times. "God, that's you all over, isn't it? You've never seen porn?"

"I've confiscated pornographic material on one occasion," Fraser snaps. "Some of the more degrading material that passes for adult entertainment here is not permitted to cross the border--"

"I'm not talking about _confiscating_ it, Fraser, I'm talking about _watching_ it."

"Well, I'm sorry, Ray, but I don't have that kind of experience--"

"But--hell, not even _straight_ porn?"

"I don't own a television, Ray," Fraser says, deliberately exaggerating his patient tone. "Nor do I own a video cassette recorder."

"Hoo boy. So you've--have you ever even seen a dick that wasn't yours?"

"Of course, Ray. I've been in any number of locker rooms and public restrooms--"

"No, that's different. You ever seen a hard-on that wasn't yours?"

Fraser's eyes widen for a moment, and he plants his gaze on the ground, looking down at Ray's feet. "_Yes_," he whispers. And there it is: out in the open, and for all that Ray's sexuality is obviously fluid itself, Fraser still finds himself tensing, waiting for Ray's reaction.

It doesn't come, though. Ray simply kneads Fraser's shoulders for a moment and nods. "Are you gonna be okay watching me with another guy?" he asks quietly.

"Well, it certainly isn't what I've fantasized about," Fraser says; in for a penny, in for a pound. He sighs and looks back up at Ray--who looks concerned, maybe even a little surprised, but by no means judgmental. It helps, a little. "What precisely do you need me to do?"

"Just--pretend you're enjoying it. Watch close. If he looks like he's trying to get me in a position where he can fuck me, or if I don't look like I'm having a good time, you tell him to back off."

"Ray--" Fraser reaches up and puts his hand over Ray's. "Do you _want_ to have sex with this man?"

Ray goes a little red around the ears and looks away. "I don't _not_ wanna," he mumbles. "You want the truth, it's been--kind of a long time. The fishes ain't exactly thick on the ground, you know what I'm saying?"

"I'm not certain what fish have to do with anything, but it's true that the ground is seldom covered with--"

"Whatever, whatever, long story short--" Ray gives Fraser a gentle shake. "I want the goods on our guy, and it's not a big hardship going through Ashby to get 'em, as long as he doesn't cross any lines. Okay?"

"Okay," Fraser murmurs. "Ray--you understand that _acting_ as if I'm enjoying this doesn't mean I wanted you to have to..."

"I know," Ray says, nodding. "I know. I know. But look--I'm not gonna hold it against you either way."

"Either way...?"

"You hate it, we can talk about it later, you can take a free shot if you feel the need. You don't hate it..." Ray chews on his lower lip for a moment. "Then you don't hate it. Fair?" Fraser nods. "Ready?" He nods again; he certainly isn't going to get _more_ ready. "Okay."

Ray heads to the door and swings it open, one arm going up to rest against the doorjamb. Fraser takes in the view from his side just as Ashby does the same from his, and when Ashby's eyes meet Fraser's, Ashby gives Fraser a knowing little smirk. It makes the hair on the back of Fraser's neck stand up; Ashby really does look like Ray, and he also thinks he knows something about Fraser. Fraser hopes he's wrong.

"All good?" Ashby asks.

"Uh-huh. We had to do a little ground rule check," Ray says.

"Oh, you know how good I am at following rules..." Ashby reaches out and runs his hand down Ray's side, resting on his hip. "I kinda got a problem with authority."

Someone not as familiar with Ray, someone who hadn't been watching him the way Fraser's been watching him for the past year and a half--someone else might not see it, but Fraser can see the way Ray's tensed now, _coiled_ perhaps, ready to snap back at Ashby's words and his touch. _Pushy_, Ray said.

Well, Ray isn't alone, and Fraser has no intention of letting Ray get pushed anywhere he doesn't want to go. He comes forward and wraps an arm around Ray's waist from behind, pulling Ray up against him. "That's too bad," Fraser tells Ashby, looking over Ray's shoulder. "Because I don't plan on going anywhere."

Ray's intake of breath is completely silent; his body doesn't even change position. Fraser can't see his face, but he's willing to wager that Ray's expression doesn't change, either. But Fraser can feel the tension in him change, and he can feel the heat from Ray's body pressed against his own, from shoulders to thighs.

"You heard the man," Ray tells Ashby. "You still up for this or not?"

"Oh, _hell_ yeah. You kidding?" Ashby gives a little _move-it-along-boys_ gesture with his hands, and Fraser gently pulls Ray out of the doorway and into the room. Ashby shuts the door behind them, and heads to the bed, where he leaps backward onto it, sprawling across it sideways, spreading his legs so wide as to be obscene. "Hell, bring your partner to bed, too."

"I don't think so," Ray says quickly--even more quickly than Fraser would have. Apparently the protectiveness in this room runs both ways. He squirms against Fraser's arm--which is also a squirm against other places, ones that Fraser has been steadfastly trying to ignore--and Fraser lets him go. "Not his thing."

"Awww." Ashby sticks his lower lip out, mock-pouting. "Pretty fucking hot, though. Don't suppose you have a name, _partner_?"

"Fr--"

"Ben," Fraser cuts in.

"Ben. Bennie. Like Bennie and the Jets. Nice."

"Ben as in Benton," Fraser corrects, none-too-gently, locking eyes with Ashby. "Not Bennie." _Not to you._

Ashby actually goes quiet at that, nodding as he looks Fraser over again. "Okay," he says. "Benton. Sorry about that."

Fraser walks down toward the foot of the bed and rests his hip against the mattress, folding his arms over his chest. "Apology accepted."

Ray glances over his shoulder to Fraser--the look on his face is some combination of surprised, impressed, and--possibly pleased. Fraser's not entirely sure what all the nuances of that look are. He doesn't have a chance to think about it, though, because Ray climbs onto the bed with Ashby and immediately takes his shirt off.

"All talk these days, huh, Ashby? I can think of better uses for that mouth."

"Oh, I bet you've spent years thinking about this mouth." Ashby grins, ear-to-ear; the word _cocky_ has never seemed so appropriate. "Betcha haven't had a whole lot of mouths since me that can do what I can do."

Fraser feels like this is a good moment to respond, but then Ashby sticks his tongue out of his mouth, and the sheer wide length of it, the curl at the tip, halts any comeback in its tracks. The resemblance between Ashby and Ray makes Fraser wonder, instead, how long Ray's tongue is, and whether he can do _that_ with it.

His jeans are getting more and more uncomfortable. _Oh, go on. It's in character._ He reaches into his jeans and adjusts himself. The motion catches both Ashby's attention and Ray's, and while Ashby's admiring, amused look is fairly one-dimensional, Ray's startled expression once again manages to say more.

"You sure you don't want in?" Ashby asks. "Two-for-one special." He sticks his tongue out again, making lewd licking motions in the air.

"You wanna do some good with that tongue, I'll tell you where you can put it," Ray growls down at him, and--much though Fraser's known it was coming, much though Fraser was expecting it--it's still a considerable shock when Ray leans down and kisses Ashby.

It has nothing to do with the surprise of seeing Ray kissing someone--anyone; he hasn't seen Ray in a romantic engagement with another person in quite some time, but he _has_ seen it. It isn't even the surprise of seeing Ray kiss another man--Fraser has known about Ray's bisexuality for some time now, even if this is the first time he's seen hard evidence of it in person. Part of it's the resemblance, the odd thrill at seeing two such similar men becoming intimate with each other.

But most of it is Fraser's own reaction, the way his senses all grow sharp as if to take in everything at once. He doesn't want to miss _anything_. And despite his earlier adjustment, his erection's pressing hard against his fly, his boxers doing very little to cushion the zipper. This is going to get uncomfortable very quickly; Fraser wonders if it would be out of character to squirm.

Ray and Ashby are still kissing, their eyes closed. Ashby slides one hand up Ray's back, taking advantage of all that bare skin, and he works his other hand under Ray's waistband, the outline of his knuckles clear underneath Ray's jeans. Ray buries both his hands in Ashby's hair, caressing at first--but then Ashby's hand moves under Ray's jeans, and the motions make it more and more obvious that Ashby wants his fingers inside Ray's body, and he won't stop until he gets them there.

Ray doesn't struggle away from that. Instead, he tightens his grip on Ashby's hair until Ashby gasps and tries to wrench his mouth away from Ray's--and when Ray just follows him, Ashby takes his hand out of Ray's jeans.

"--mff, mmf, mmkay okay _okay_\--"

"Not going there tonight," Ray says. He raises his eyebrows at Ashby. "Clear?"

"You can't blame a guy for trying."

"I can blame you," Fraser murmurs. "Don't do that again."

Ashby looks up at him, and Fraser keeps staring down until Ashby shrugs and gives both Ray and Fraser a broad grin. "Fine. No problem. You got dibs on Ray's ass, I can respect that. There's still plenty of other stuff I can play with."

Ray looks up at Fraser, and the half-apologetic, half-embarrassed expression on his face vanishes instantly when he sees the way Fraser's looking at the two of them. Instead, Ray's eyes go wide, and Fraser quickly looks down at the floor.

"Hey," Ray says. He draws himself halfway out of Ashby's arms so he can reach out to Fraser. "Are you--"

"I'm fine," Fraser says. He catches Ray's hand in his own and squeezes. "I want to see you enjoying yourself."

Ray nods slowly, but there's Ashby again, licking his lips and sweeping a hand down the length of Ray's arm, brushing his fingertips over the back of Fraser's hand, too. "So how exactly _do_ you like to see Kowalski here enjoying himself?"

"Jesus, Ashby, lighten up," Ray says, squeezing Fraser's hand before letting go--and taking Ashby's hand with him. He looks quickly back up at Fraser. "Don't let him bait you."

"Don't worry about me."

"I'm not baiting. C'mon, I'm not baiting." Ashby reaches around to the back of Ray's neck and pulls him back down. "And no cracks about me being a master baiter, either. I'm just saying, if somebody who looked like that was fucking me, I'd be giving him whatever kind of show he wanted." Ashby looks up at Fraser again. "So what's it gonna be? You want him to suck me? You want me to suck him?" He wiggles his eyebrows and swipes his tongue over his lips. "You want to fuck him while he's fucking me?"

"Knock it _off_," Ray says, thank God, because Fraser's mind was presenting him with some extremely vivid portraits of those activities, and now he can barely breathe evenly, let alone think clearly. "Fraser's not the kind of guy you can push."

The room feels very warm and very close right now; Fraser can smell the different brands of hair gel Ray and Ashby use, can smell the differences in their sweat. He's _aching_, and in spite of Ray's words, Fraser's not so sure he couldn't be pushed. Not so sure of that at all.

"Perhaps--" Fraser has to stop and clear his throat, and that gives Ray enough time to look up at him. Fraser's still focusing on Ashby, though. "Perhaps I'd like to see you using your mouth on Ray."

"Yeah...?"

"If you're as good as you're boasting, that is."

Ashby's eyebrows draw together. "If? Ray, tell him about that time we did it in the alley back behind Jimmy Fisher's club--"

"Y'know, it's funny, Ashby--when he said 'use your mouth', I don't think he meant flappin' it."

"Well, fine, then. You gonna let me up or what?"

Ray rolls off Ashby, and Ashby doesn't waste any time. He slides off the side of the bed, standing between Ray's legs, and manages to unbutton Ray's jeans so quickly Fraser wonders, for a moment, if Ray actually wore jeans that have a zipper. No; apparently Ashby just has that much experience getting men out of their clothes.

Ashby puts his hand in Ray's waistband and tugs down, and Ray lifts his hips up and squirms until his jeans and briefs are down around his thighs. Ashby's not done, though; he keeps tugging at Ray's pants even after Ray's stopped squirming and helping him. "C'mon, don't be a tease," Ashby says. "C'mon."

"I still have my boots on, asshole," Ray says. "Do something about that first."

"Fine. Jesus." Ashby drops to his knees and starts unlacing one of Ray's boots, and Fraser's breath stutters out of him in a rush of awkward realization, the awareness of a brand-new desire. Ashby's not being careful about this, and Ray's boots are plain steel-toed combat-style boots, but the idea of Ray on his knees, taking off an entirely different pair of boots--the image is so alluring Fraser's vision actually swims, and he has to rub at his eyes to clear it.

By the time he's finished, both of Ray's boots have been dropped unceremoniously to the ground, and Ashby's yanking Ray's jeans the rest of the way off. Fraser can't look away; he stares at Ray, at Ray's cock--hard and leaning right--and the almost-obscene spread of his legs makes Fraser want to shove Ashby out of the way and take Ray into his mouth, touching Ray's bare thighs, squeezing Ray's hips and holding him still.

Ashby has a plan of his own, and he kneels down at the side of the bed and licks his lips, humming happily as Ray angles his cock down toward Ashby's face. "Yeah, that's the stuff," Ashby murmurs. "C'mon, gimme--"

Ray does. Ashby opens his mouth wide and starts sucking Ray's cock into his mouth, making wet sounds and squirming on the floor to get closer. Ray would have to be made of iron not to be affected by that, and yet--and _yet_...

He's watching Fraser, not Ashby. When Ray's eyes meet Fraser's, Fraser almost squirms; the ache between his legs has gone from merely uncomfortable to downright unbearable. And when Ray licks his lips--when Ray's mouth falls open, even if it's to pant for breath because of what Ashby's doing--Fraser can't help thinking about Ray on his knees. Ray in front of Fraser. Ray's grinning, sarcasm-laced mouth sucking Fraser's cock until Fraser begs.

The adjustment from before isn't providing any relief at all anymore; Fraser cups his cock in his hand and squeezes, none-too-gently. Ray's eyes flick down to the bulge in Fraser's jeans, and he groans out loud. "Please..."

Ashby's mouth comes off Ray's cock with a wet popping sound--one that Ashby must have made on purpose. "Man, I love it when you beg," he murmurs. Ray sits up, startled, eyes flicking down to Ashby, and Ashby pauses--and then looks over at Fraser. "Or, you know, I might as well not be here at all," Ashby says, rolling his eyes. "You are so fucking dick-whipped."

"Hey, hey, nobody was complaining about your skills," Ray says quickly, giving one nervous glance to Fraser before focusing on Ashby again--intently this time, both hands in Ashby's hair. "C'mon, Lew. Don't stop now."

"Oh, so you do remember who I am--"

"Of course I remember. Would you just--"

"Ask nice, huh?"

Fraser steps forward and puts a hand on Ashby's shoulder. He squeezes, and, thinking about how Ashby's responded to him so far tonight--how Ashby's responded when Fraser's put his foot down about things--he doesn't do it gently. "You're teasing," Fraser murmurs. "That's enough. Keep going."

The effect on Ashby is strange, hard to quantify. He seems to relax and tense at the same time; his posture firms up while the edgy, twitchy energy he's had tonight settles down. But he nods against Ray's hands, and he licks his lips. "Okay," he says quietly. "Okay, yeah--yeah, all right--"

Ray looks back up at Fraser, and Fraser nods. How he's become the arbiter of this encounter, the one who decides who touches whom, who kisses whom and how, he doesn't know--but there's no stepping down, no moving away. He imagines there'll need to be words, things said between himself and Ray--but later, when Ray's not trembling with pleasure and rocking his hips forward, pushing his cock between Ashby's lips and muttering, "yeah, _yeah_, like _that_, fuck--more, c'mon, c'mon, you son of a bitch, take it--"

Fraser's hand tightens on Ashby's shoulder. If it were Fraser here, Fraser on his knees, would Ray be cursing that way? _Come on, Fraser--come on, you bastard--suck me, that's it, suck me until I--_

He takes his hand off Ashby, realizing how close he's been coming to pushing Ashby forward. There's a difference between being an arbiter and being irresponsible; it's no more fair to be pushy with Ashby than it would be for Ashby to be pushy with Ray. But--God, he _wants_, now, wants to hold Ashby's head while Ray fucks him, fucks his mouth until Ray's openmouthed and shaking with lust.

He steps back, two full steps, and wipes his sweaty palms on his thighs. What he wants and what he can have are seldom coincident. He's used to that. But Ray looks up at him, eyebrows drawn together, licking his lips over and over again, and Fraser sees--hopes he sees--concern mixed with a desire to bring Fraser back in. It's Ray's _Where the hell you goin', Fraser?_ look, and it makes Fraser pause.

Perhaps he can't push Ashby for more than Ashby's offering, but he can damn well give himself some pleasure. Ray wants him here, Ashby wants him here--Ray even gave him permission to enjoy himself, now that Fraser thinks back. _You don't hate it... then you don't hate it. Fair?_

He nods at Ray, and Ray keeps frowning, still looks uncertain, but then Fraser sucks up every ounce of his courage and unfastens his belt. Ray's mouth drops open, but Fraser's not done yet: he undoes the button on his jeans, lets that godforsaken zipper down at last, and by now Ray's eyes are wide with shock. But having got this far, Fraser's determined now: he takes his cock out and strokes it, groaning softly at the relief.

"Oh, Jesus," Ray pants, "oh, fuck, Fraser--" He grabs Ashby's head and drags Ashby's mouth down on his cock, and Ashby doesn't resist at all--if anything, he's struggling forward, trying to get more. Ray's eyes narrow into slits, as if he's having to work to keep them open at all--and of course he is, of course he is: he's watching Fraser with the same focused intensity as Fraser's watching him. Ray wants this, wants to watch Fraser pleasing himself--years now and Ray's probably wanted him this entire time--

Fraser can't hold back. He gives himself one more stroke and then cups his other hand around the head of his cock to catch his semen as he comes; he only manages to get about half of it, though he does manage not to come on Ashby. It drips over his fingers as he finishes, falling onto the carpet--_oh, dear_.

"Jesus," Ray pants, "that's the hottest fuckin'--okay, yeah, yeah, close, now or never--"

Ashby squeezes Ray's thighs; that seems like a _now_ signal, not a _never_ signal, and Ray behaves accordingly, giving a few last erratic thrusts into Ashby's mouth and then groaning through his orgasm, groaning with his body curled into Ashby and his hands in Ashby's hair.

It's absurd to be jealous, absurd after all this, but Fraser looks around the room for a tissue--for anything, really, anything to look at that isn't Ray and Ashby. He's so intent on not looking at them that he nearly misses it when Ashby comes to his feet, and when Ashby jerks his zipper down and gets his own cock out, Fraser's still not sure what it has to do with _him_.

Ashby takes Fraser by the wrist and drags his hand down. "Look at that," he says, grinning ear-to-ear. "Is that for me?"

"Of course--" _not_, Fraser doesn't say, because Ashby's got Fraser's wet, sticky fingers wrapped around his cock now, and he's thrusting into Fraser's hand. "--yes," Fraser whispers, "all right, yes," and Ashby chuckles as he speeds up.

It's the wrong hand, so it feels awkward, but Fraser's captivated by the look of it--Ashby's cock, dark red and leaking pre-ejaculate, against Fraser's fingers, sticky and stained. Fraser tries twisting his hand, and Ashby comes up on his toes. "_Fuck_, yeah--more, c'mon, more more more, you both got yours already--"

Ashby has a point; it's only fair. Fraser nods at him, and Ashby wraps both arms around Fraser's neck, rocking his hips forward. "Yeah," Ashby pants. "Yeah, say it--say it, Ben, _tell me_\--"

Fraser's paralyzed for a moment, wondering what the password is, but then it's obvious, so obvious--"Come," Fraser growls, squeezing tighter, moving his hand faster. "Now."

"Ungh--_fuck_," Ashby grunts, and Fraser realizes suddenly that he ought to have moved--but it's too late now: Ashby's coming in a hot white streak, across Fraser's thighs, and messy though it is, Fraser holds his breath until it's done, not wanting to miss a moment of it.

When it's over, though, Ray's there--there and dressed again, but then Fraser supposes he certainly had time. Ray puts both hands on Ashby's shoulders and tugs him away from Fraser.

"Get your own," Ray growls at him, and Ashby laughs, letting Ray pilot him over to the bed. Ashby collapses across it, and Ray stares at Fraser for several seconds. "Fraser--"

"Yes," Fraser mumbles, looking down at himself. His jeans are a lost cause; he wipes both hands on them, since there's no help for them anyway. He looks--he'd rather not think about how he looks. He gets his clothes back in order again, wincing as he does. "I think I'll find a bathroom, if you're all right here--"

"I'm fine," Ray says, reaching up and squeezing Fraser's arm. "Go."

Fraser goes. The bathroom upstairs is still foul-smelling, the floor not to be tread upon without caution, but Fraser manages to wash his hands, at least. The state of his jeans means he'll have to sneak into the Consulate without being seen, but he's managed that before.

He steps back out into the hall, and he's surprised to see both Ray and Ashby outside the bedroom door. Ashby's got an arm around Ray's neck, but Ray's got his serious face on--whatever Ashby knows, he's passed it on to Ray now.

He nods when Fraser comes up, and when he steps away from Ashby, Ashby doesn't protest. "You boys want a third sometime down the road, look me up," he says. "I'm up for it."

"We'll do that," Fraser says, and while Ray's eyes narrow, he doesn't contradict him. Ray just gives Ashby a light punch on the arm before stepping away.

"Later, man," Ray says. "Thanks."

"Oh, thank _you_."

Ray puts an arm around Fraser's waist and guides him out at best possible speed. Fraser doesn't mind; he's as glad to be leaving as Ray is. Still, he's not sure they got what they came here for. "Ray--did he...?"

"I got an address," Ray says. "He wasn't taken. He's been hiding out with a couple friends from an old band of his."

Fraser nods; it's the best outcome they could have hoped for. "Should we go see him, then?"

Ray shakes his head. "Not until morning. Kid's nineteen, Fraser. He's not a runaway. He just worried some friends--and we're gonna give him one hell of a talking-to, believe you me, but we're not gonna bust in on the folks looking after him at--" He checks his watch. "Jesus. Almost one in the morning. That's a little beyond the pale even for us."

"If he's safe there, I don't see why it can't wait."

"Ashby says he's safe. Gave me some names of people who'll vouch for the old bandmates. I believe him."

They're outside now, and Ray gets Fraser to the car and unlocks the door. Fraser gets in and unlocks Ray's door from inside, and he's still halfway in Ray's seat when Ray slides in. Ray doesn't let him drop back to his own side of the car, though; Ray grabs Fraser by the shirt and holds him there, hands clutching at Fraser's shirt like he might--Fraser thinks Ray might actually hit him again. He hopes not.

Ray doesn't, finally, and Fraser lets out a breath. "Ray..."

"I didn't know," Ray says. "I thought you were--I thought _probably_, but--" He looks away, but his hands are still tight on Fraser's shirt. "I didn't know it was about me. I didn't know you wanted me."

"It never seemed the proper time to say," Fraser admits.

"I wanna make this up to you. Tell me how to make this up to you. Because I can't--if that was--if that was _it_, Fraser, I am so fucking sorry--"

"Ray." Fraser has to say his name again; has to say it several times, because Ray's still talking, still trying to apologize. In the end, Fraser gives up speaking, and leans forward so he can put his mouth on Ray's.

Ray groans and pulls Fraser in even tighter, but at least Fraser's certain now that Ray isn't planning to hit him. He's not being terribly careful of Fraser's shirt, though, which is starting to strain at the seams.

Absurdly, the thought makes Fraser grin, and Ray pulls back to look at him. "What?"

"This evening hasn't been easy on my wardrobe," Fraser says. "I'm glad you talked me out of wearing the uniform."

Ray stares at him for a moment, then laughs and lets go of Fraser's shirt. "Okay," he says. "Okay, yeah. Me, too. So, um." He eyes Fraser's jeans and looks back up at him. "I got a laundromat a couple blocks from my apartment. You want to--"

"Yes," Fraser interrupts. He doesn't need the excuse; he thinks maybe they're about to move beyond excuses. "Yes, Ray, I want to."

Ray smiles--smiles big and broad and long--and he guns the engine. "Okay. Let's head home."

_-end-_


End file.
